


Weight Upon My Back

by bilsunderooks



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark Percy, Gen, Gunslinger Cassandra, Reverse Critical Role Bang, Roleswap, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:59:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8579491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilsunderooks/pseuds/bilsunderooks
Summary: When it spoke to Cassandra that first time in Stillben, the voice said in a smoky gurgle: You are clever. You are bold. You are deadly intent and fierceness. You will suit my gifts well, and make others suffer for the pain they have caused you. I can help you achieve that.Cassandra forgot about the voice, and still forgets because even she knows that insanity is a slippery slope between hope and one of Anna Ripley’s knives. A Roleswap AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [ Taliesinjaffeswetdream](taliesinjaffeswetdream.tumblr.com), who is my go-to for plot ideas and making Percy suffer. To my DND group who are all so amazing and such a huge support in writing and reading this as betas. For[ Deedippe](deedippe.tumblr.com) for the incredible art with its atmospheric haze and sharp clarity of feeling; I hope this fic does it justice. As my first reversebang this was such a great experience.
> 
> As usual, a music rec: Title comes from ‘Small Things’ by Ben Howard, and I also listened to Arcade Fire’s ‘Black Wave/Bad Vibrations’, ‘See You On The Other Side’ from Blindspot’s soundtrack, and ‘Flesh and Bone’ from Keaton Henson. Now, I need to take a break from writing angst because this was pretty harrowing for me. Enjoy!

When it spoke to Cassandra that first time in Stillben, the voice said in a smoky gurgle: _You are clever. You are bold. You are deadly intent and fierceness. You will suit my gifts well, and make others suffer for the pain they have caused you. I can help you achieve that._

Cassandra forgot about the voice, and still forgets because even she knows that insanity is a slippery slope between hope and one of Anna Ripley’s knives.

When Scanlan finds her she thinks he’s a hallucination. To convince her to follow him into freedom he sings his siren song of companionship and agency. He also gives her a cloak that is too short and barely covers her shaking shoulders.

“I have some friends I think you might want to meet,” he says, teeth gleaming. He is not yet a father, but he adopts her as his daughter nonetheless; since that first moment where she pointed a broken part of her manacles at him, and threatened to cut his throat or leave her be.

Cassandra doesn’t look back, and forgets about the voice because she’s too busy worrying about how to slide herself seamlessly into the fold of, what they will soon be known as, Vox Machina.

Truth is, if she hadn’t been broken out the way she did she wouldn’t have known how to pull that killing intent into tune with her burning desire to be reborn.

* * *

“I thought you were dead,” Percy says, about three years later.

Around the molten despair that engulfs her, Cassandra expected him to say that and yet hearing it only cements the reality that today is possibly the worst and best day of her life.

“Clearly not,” she says. When he hugs her, so tightly she feels her shoulder blades grind together, she finally feels like she’s home. His solid frame is racked with tremours, and his open mouthed grief blows hot air along her temple, ear, and out through her hair. It reminds her of his forges from the workshop, the large room tucked away in the castle near mother’s offices; her home and the childhood world lost to time and grief.

Cassandra eyes burn. It’s Percy, it’s really him after five years. She clutches him tighter to her and soaks in the shape of his torso and arms before pulling away.

Percy’s throat wound has finally clotted over thanks to Vex’s hands. His ascott is stained red, and, god, he still has one of those doesn’t he? It looks like father’s occasion one, the one Julius liked to borrow for important formals, dignitary meetings, and trade negotiations. His thick hands had been hopeless in its knots and creased folds. Cassandra was taught by Vesper how to fold it; to arrange the frills just so with deft fingers and to tighten it until it was flush to Julius’s stubbly throat.

The de Rolos had never been a family who dressed fashionably out of convenience, but out of necessity. High collars that pinched skin and inserted an imaginary steel rod down their spines for their shoulderblades to squeeze. They were taught how to stand and enunciate their speech or else they didn’t have a hope in surviving the political world.

To be clever, cleverer than a snake and deadly with a pen. Of all the de Rolo siblings; Vesper, Percy and Cassandra had it in them to be dictators.

Percy stands like that now. Like a lord only with a lot more muscle than Cassandra remembers. In the time since she last saw him her big brother’s hair has gone completely white. He is older around the eyes, a lot sterner, and he carries his arms and weight as if years of behaviour and manners taught at father’s knee were beaten out of him. He is stuffed now with whatever cruelty the Briarwoods inflicted; scars seen and unseen in his figure.

There is a burn mark to his temple the shape of a pistol, like the one she has. It’s old, older than hers, several years worth of white scar healed over, some areas shaded darker. She can’t even imagine what Ripley getting to know Percy was like, if he knows how cold her hands can be on skin. There’s also another silver scar under his lip and following the line of his jaw.

He looks ethereal with his stiff spine and long coat and aged hair. Like a marble statue. It makes her skin pucker with cold even among the overwhelming happiness that overtakes her as she touches him again and again and again.

There’s her hand on his brow, his cheek, his shoulder as if she can send warmth through the heavy blue jacket. She inspects his fingers and finds them clean of soot, she adjusts his glasses, she kisses his cheek. She has never been so affectionate in five years and it seems to pour out of her now in a torrential, fussy flood; the reserves locked tight even from Pike, who Cassandra loves unabashedly and wholly with every breath in her body. Percival lets her, smiles even, and indulges his own inspection of her.

The best part is when Percy says, “I don’t blame you for leaving me.”

He says it quietly, like it’s a confession even he wasn’t aware he was going to make, and tears finally escape her hot eyes.

“So _your_ Cassandra's big brother? I must say you're nothing like what I was expecting," comes Vex.

There is a flurry of introductions and explanations around a lingering awkwardness between Vax and Keyleth. And when Grog, Trinket and Scanlan return the whole room is full of people Cassandra loves and respects and doesn’t want to let go of. It’s one of those seemingly perfect moments in her life that she’s never been able to hold, let alone witness for herself.

I have a brother she says to herself, with stunned reverence.

And still there is a voice that hums, _Soon_.

* * *

“I’ve been fighting them for nearly three years within these very walls, Cassandra,” Percy says later when he comes out of his room in armour that doesn’t look like it’s from Whitestone. “You have no power over my decision in this.”

Cassandra huffs, fists clenched at her sides. “Curse the de Rolo men and their stubbornness.”

He levels her a fierce glare. “I need to do right by our people. To make up for the mistakes that led the first rebellion to failure. You will deny me this? When I can just as easily argue that you’re too young to be in this fight?”

She refuses to answer and feels her teeth ache with fury. He smirks in triumph. “I know their secrets. I _know_ them. We can work together, just like when we were children and Oliver stole your bow.”

She glances over at Vox Machina, who are pretending they’re not in the corridor and, by extent, this argument by gazing with interest at the tapestries and furniture that clutters the way.

“I want that,” she admits. “I do. But who’s to say that _I_ know _you_ anymore? Five years is a long time, brother, how do I know the Briarwoods haven’t done anything to your mind?”

There is a crumble in his veneer, a flash of hurt passing his face that pains her almost as much as admitting her doubts did.

“Cassandra-”

Surprisingly, it’s Vex who speaks up.

“I’m sure you are in your right mind. In fact, we might have a use for you. He can come and we’ll all be watching him, Cassandra. Very closely.” Her smile reassures Cassandra, whose grip tightens on pepperbox. It has grown sighs within its barrels that lengthen the longer they wait to kill the Briarwoods.

Percy’s eyebrow jumps, and his composure slides back into place as he says, dry, “See anything worthwhile?”

Vex laughs and Cassandra exchanges an unsettled glance with Vax before they pretend to gag. “Plenty. I want you back in my friend’s life but I’m afraid we really can’t trust you for the moment. It’s all insurance that we stay safe. We can never be too careful.”

“True, and I can’t blame you for it. I did live here for three years. Things might have gotten muddled.” The playful edge drained away into something more serious. “I had my part to play with the Briarwoods but. But with all that has happened to Whitestone, I sometimes wonder what meaning it all had. What standing by the family name meant. Sometimes I think all those years felt like a dream. One that I could never wake up from. I hate the idea of feeling so helpless, and looking back that’s exactly what I was after the rebellion. For all I know you might be a crazed hallucination while I’m under Ripley’s table. I’m so glad you’re alive.” Here he looks at Cassandra. It is beseeching, hopeful, a touch loving. “More than anything. It breaks my heart to have lost all that time. And now look at you.”

“Our girl’s definitely a jewel in our eyes,” Scanlan says proudly, and Cassandra feels her collar grow hot with pride and bashfulness. Her smile is faint when she nods at Percy, unable to vocalise the similar overwhelming gladness in her heart that shines from his eyes.

“You didn’t try to fight back?” Vax asks and Percy clears his throat.

“I’m not much of a fighter. That was more my brothers style. Instead I tinkered. I built a machine that might one day take down the Briarwoods from the inside. All in secret of course.”

“A machine! How marvelous. I can imagine you have all sorts of secrets hidden in that wonderful brain of yours,” Vex says.

Percy stumbles as his hip hits a bit of passage rock, coughing, and Cassandra snaps her head towards Vex.

“Well, it’s good to see our Cassandra is reunited with her brother,” Vex continues as if Percy isn’t choking down a blush that Cassandra will hold over his head for years to come. “It’s a rare gift to have. Some advice? Try not to squander it. My own brother is very talented with knives, as you have seen. I would hate for him to make a stupid mistake with one of them. You wouldn’t want to dirty your coat since your fancy neck thing is already far gone. You de Rolos so do love your appearances. Is that clear, darling?” She finishes with a slow curl of her mouth, before striding ahead.

If Percy is surprised by the endearment, he is too much a de Rolo to show it. But there is something coldly satisfied in the way he appraises Vex as she walks up to Keyleth and hands her a healing potion.

Vax sends a warning glance at Percy, at once understanding if assessing, before he falls back to whisper furiously in Grog’s ear.

“Interesting friends you’ve made,” Percy says to her.

Cassandra feels her heart thrum and she’s not sure if it’s anger or fear that makes her ribs ache with the force of the withered muscle. What worries her is that he spoke with conviction, and she’d like to think she knows enough of her brother to still be able to tell if he’s lying to her.

 _He is not cruel,_ she thinks to herself. _He is calculated and advantageous but never that._

 _He is not cruel,_ the voice in her head mocks. _He is mean and petty and was too shut up with his experiments to deal with anything healthily. But what do you know? He is but a stranger in blue and frozen promises, trapped like a vicious weasel in a cage._

 _Shut up_ , she seethes. _Shut up. I don’t want to hear it._

The voice laughs. _You hear everything Cassandra. You know nothing. But soon you will understand what it means to be Percy, to have such dark creatures teach him the love of killing. He understands them. You have thought it before; back when he was dead you thought he would have understood them. And you can’t ignore that anymore._

_Watch me._

Percy is chatting with Scanlan. The lamplight has cast his face into a warm profile that is friendly and reachable. Yet when they all turn into various shapes and sizes of Cassandra and Percy, she sees that alien coldness residing in Percy reflected in each of her friends eyes.

_Watch me._

As is always the case, like sand in a hurricane, the conversation is forgotten about.

* * *

She feels as if in a fever dream; there's a muggy haze that overshadows everything after the fight in the crypt.

“Where did you get that?” Percy asks her. He’d been accosted by two ghosts so she’d tossed him the pepperbox. He shot two in quick succession and deadly aim. She couldn’t help noticing, in those split seconds, how his hand molded around the gun like a long lost friend. When she took it back she had to pry it away from his sticky grasp. She watched as his rapturous face turn greedy with curiosity; an aged expression that has been distilled since their time as children. She can’t shake off the feeling of wrongness that settles over her when she thinks about it, or how the pepperbox seems to vibrate with _need_.

“I made it,” she tells him, and feels wrong when she does. As if she’s lying.

Percy hums. “The barrels need to be repositioned, and the grip is too clumsy. It’s fine work, but there’s always room for improvement.”

“Maybe after this I might lend it to you for a few days,” she says, and watches the light of inspiration spark in his eyes.

“That might do nicely.”

Keyleth calls him over to pick at his knowledge of Pelor, the Sun Tree and the white stone because Cassandra was never the avid student like Percy was. Is.

Scanlan takes her hand and whispers, “You alright kiddo?”

As entrenched in the disguise as they all are she’s not sure how he knows it’s her, but she squeezes his hand all the same. In the face of her brilliant and clever brother that she failed to save, she tries not to feel like everyone sees her as wanting.

“That metal rod up his ass must be so uncomfortable. His throat is probably scraped to hell and back,” Scanlan tells her, conspiratory, and Cassandra can’t resist the snort that explodes out of her. He squeezes her hand again and says, far too knowing, “The light of the elder sibling is often overshadowed by the steadiness of the younger. You’re our girl, always.”

The haze doesn’t lift, but she feels stronger, clearer, as though she can see the bark through autumn’s blush. She kisses his forehead, a gesture she doesn’t often indulge in, and her adoptive father in heart if not name beams with pleasure.

Perhaps the gun that she built will feel more settled when this is all over, and she can spend a rainy day helping Pike with one of Sarenrae’s temples while the weapon remains locked in Grog’s room.

When Pike returns in a firefly shower of light Cassandra works over the lump in her throat and kisses Pike’s cheek while Vax presses his forehead to her glowing hands.

“Thank you for coming back,” she says, to the holy light surrounding Pike and illuminating the rest of her family. “Thank you.”

There’s work to be done, and a family to take home to Greyskull Keep.

* * *

“I have a new family. I am a Briarwood. And I have a destiny with the Whispered One.” Percival says, eyes gleaming like a storm trapped in a sapphire even through the distorted green glass.

He swiftly spins around and sinks a blade deep into Vax’s guts and hisses, “For earlier.”

Immediately there’s a spray of blood from Vax’s mouth, and he glances up at Percival with angry and confused eyes before he falls down to the ground like silk falling from a curtain rail.

Behind Cassandra, beyond the cold sea water shock that has enveloped her brain and heart, Vex screams from her place up in the air.

There’s a sudden thud of metal and splintered wood as an arrow drops from over Cassandra’s head. She can’t even flinch, too numb from the way Percival cleans his knife on Vax’s cloak and straightens away from him with a disdainful sneer.

“You truly thought you could come back to Whitestone with such companions? I really thought you’d have learned something from mother,” he says, eyes cold as they bore into Cassandra’s. “How pathetic. Then again, you were never the cruel one in the family.” He draws away until he’s standing by Delilah’s side, close enough for her to reach up and touch his cheek.

It’s a fond gesture. A grotesque parody of their mother’s regard, who only touched with kindness and never intent. Delilah is cruel intent in everything she does, and Cassandra feels sick to her stomach when she realises how terribly wrong she was to trust the only person left in her family.

Percy turns to her, watches the rest of Vox Machina struggle with acid behind the glass with a cold disparity.

“Why?’ She says, voice wrecked. Silas and Delilah pause and examine her heartbreak with amusement making their teeth gleam in the dark. Percy tilts his head, considering, even as his eyes track Keyleth’s barrage of spells, Grog’s thick muscles straining against the glass, Scanlan’s skin bursting into corrosive blisters, Pike glows of pissy wrath, and Vex’s tight hummingbird path in the air.

“We were weak, Cassandra. We shoved our hearts into cages and magical stone and pretended we were worth more than the petty squabbles of merchants and farmers. That someday we could rule Emon, of all places, with Julius at its head. The de Rolo name was timeless. It was only a matter of time until entropy happened. It was inevitable,” he spat at the ground, towards the shaking body of Vax. “You saw it too. You were the one sibling who refused to be told what to do, who refused to wear those corsets that hurt Vesper’s lungs. You were devious in your pranking; remember the pond and Ludwig’s chess set? Inspired. You are the strain of de Rolo that prevails, not like the rest of our siblings. Not our father. We were our mother’s creatures, and in her image we shone as beacons.

“I know it doesn’t look like it, but I do wish for you to live, my sister. Cassandra. I want my family whole again, now I’ve know that there is still room in my heart for that. However, I suppose even you are left to time’s erosion. No matter,” he turns and takes Silas’ hand. Cassandra wants to scream the whole castle down until it was rubble and she buried with it. As always she doesn’t show it, yet Percy still smirks at her as if he knows exactly what she is thinking.

There’s smoke in the back of her throat.

“Whitestone will have children again. And this time I won’t be making the same mistakes as our parents. If this world must die to achieve that, then it’s the right price to pay.”

And when they walk away she sees dear Vax struggling to get up again to follow Percy and the Briarwoods. His face is full of drugged hopefulness even as his legs give out, and he silently bleeds out all over the floor.

The voice tuts in her ear like a ticking clock.

* * *

After they are freed, and Pike heals Vax he bounces back quickly. Cassandra only has a moment to feel relief when there’s a sputter of dark energy arcing along her gun.

“Cassandra, you alright?” Grog asks. She can only stare at the name and shake her head.

Over her shoulder Keyleth cranes her neck to look for herself and sighs, defeated. “Oh, Cassandra.”

“This ends here,” she says, ignoring Keyleth and taking the lead.

Behind her Grog says, kindly, “Yeah. Let’s. But you always have a choice.”

Cassandra doesn’t respond to that either. She finds herself walking beside Vex, who is dipping her arrows in holy oil with a murderous line arching over her brown like electricity. “I can understand,” she says, hands fiddling nervously with the pepperbox’s barrel, fingers tracing the newly etched name. “If you hate me now. What has been done to your brother, I’m so sorry, and if this has broken all the trust you had in me-”

She hiccups when Vex crushes her into a one armed hug, smells the forest on Vex’s coat and hair, and allows herself to relax into the rough embrace.

“Oh, Cassandra,” Vex says into her hair, pitying and fierce as a kiss is placed on her ear. “It wasn’t your fault. Never think that. It’s the Briarwoods and your sodding brother’s fault and we are going after them to put a stop to all this.”

“He’s my brother,” Cassandra says wretchedly. Vex doesn’t reply which is so telling Cassandra has to wipe at her eyes, furious at Vex all of a sudden.

Vex exhales from her nose. “Dear. He might be your brother, but as of ten minutes ago he is an enemy.” She runs a thumb along the acid burn erupting like dragon scales from Cassandra’s mouth to her cheek. “One that I will do anything to make sure he stops hurting my family.”

For a long moment Cassandra seriously considers punching Vex so all her anger is thrown back to the family crypt and stays there to rot with the spirits of her ancestors. She says nothing in the end. Instead she takes up glaring sullenly at the passage; at the way Scanlan and Vax refuse to look at her, at the wicked curve of Keyleth’s staff juddering in the lamp light, and the crackling of Grogs knuckles, the glimmer of Pike’s frown.  

And worst of all, as they walk to the Ziggurat, the voice curls in her mind like candle smoke until her skin crawls. She is forced to bask in its delighted voice as it recounts its momentary ecstasy of having Percy for those few short moments in the crypt.

_He loves machines, the violence they wield. Orchestrates murders as if they were part of his own trophies. And he loves the Briarwoods. He hates them but he loves them, they shower him with praise and gifts and treat him so well when he kills. It is bloody and beautiful and it is no longer an excuse to be with them because he wants to honour your family, no. He is no longer a prisoner, but their son. He wanted to stay alive so badly, for you, in your memory. He hates and takes and takes and takes because this world will end in glorious death and violence, because it was weak enough to let you all die. It is all he lives for now._

_There was a village_ , it continues and Cassandra swallows gulps of stale air to dispel her sudden nausea. _There was a village, and now there is not. You were not the first to weaponise bombs to improve their accuracy. You were not the first to juggle bullets in your bare hands. Percival holds many keys and has shattered only one so others cannot get to it. He seeks danger, and you are helpless to stop him._

The thing in her head sounds lustful in its reverence, greedy for a purpose it can’t have and can’t take. Not yet.

_Finish him, Cassandra._

She decides that death would be too easy for the Briarwoods.

* * *

Death comes to Silas in the shape of a sunbeam and his wife’s screams.

Before anyone can react, Percy turns and uses mother’s sword to slash upwards, and Lady Delilah Briarwood dies with her mouth still stretched wide around a slit throat.

The moment reverberates like chalk on slate.

Then Percy drops the sword and stumbles back as if struck with horror. “Cassandra,” he gasps out before falling to one knee.

She doesn’t run to him. Instead she watches as Vex strides past the couple who ruined Cassandra’s life indefinitely, and aims an arrow at Percy’s heart. “Check him.” She spits.

Scanlan rushes to obey.

Meanwhile Cassandra lifts the gun and points it at Percy. “It’s just a precaution,” she says. Tears leak out of Percy’s eyes as he nods, looks at her with so much love and self loathing she wants to throw away her gun and wrap her arms around him. But that would be the height of stupidity.

“They’re dead,” Percy says as Scanlan holds out his glowing hands in a detached manner she’s never seen from him before.

“Yes,” she says, because there’s nothing else to say around the numbness leeching into her spine. “It’s over.”

She blinks when Percy’s lips quirk in a rueful smile. “Not quite.”

“The ritual they were talking about,” she realises. “Tell me what that is.”

“I don’t know.”

Vax’s knife bites into Percy’s neck and she takes a startled step forward.

Percy licks his lips. “I swear. No tricks this time. That was the only thing they didn’t confide in me about.”

“The only thing?” Vax asks, grim.

“Yes.” Thick tears start to roll down his face and spatter his stained collar, some disappearing into his mouth. He bites out, shamed faced, “I loved them.”

At that Cassandra turns to fire two bullets into the Briarwood’s corpses with the pepperbox. The barrels inscribed with their names sputter and vanish.

“Fucking _hell_ , Percy,” she snarls.

“That’s far the least thing I should be ashamed of,” he offers. His voice is trembling now in spite of Vax, who reaches up to fist his hand in Percy’s hair and yanks him back to expose his throat.

Scanlan calls out “He’s clean,” before scrambling back. “What are we going to do about the Temple?”

“Fuck the Temple!” Cassandra strides forward and shoves the tip of her gun against his heart. “What have you done, Percival? Was anything you said true?”

His eyes are wretched and she can’t find it in herself to feel pity. “I _was_ healed by the father. I _did_ lead a rebellion to save Whitestone. I _was_ captured and imprisoned, my freedom _was_ gone. I waited and sought after death for _months_ afterwards. I did everything I could to stay true to myself but somewhere down that path I lost any reasoning as to why. We always knew I wasn’t a good man, Cassandra. They saw that and I felt recognised. I felt like I could do better, stronger, as a man - rather than pretending to be a good one.”

“You were better than most!” she yells. “You were the one who was supposed to be _better_ ! It was enough to have our brothers and sisters but _you_ were the one I looked up to the most and I _trusted_ you with everything I still have.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says around her. They’re both crying horrible, ugly tears now; fat sobs that shake through the both of them like a tsunami. “I truly am Cassandra but I didn’t know what else to do but love them.”

“You had us!”

“I _lost you_!”

“ _Because of them!”_ She bellows before raising her gun and making to strike him until his nose and those stupid glasses broke under her rage, then again and again until his skull caved in with his fear and her terrible grief.

Suddenly Grog grabs her arm and yanks her back, drawing her to his chest with the barest of grunts. She screams and tries to kick and bite at his arms but she can only feel the muscles tensing under her cloak, the tear of fabric, and the iron strength of him as he wrapped himself around her like he once did a kitten. He’s even shushing her and she glares cold murder up at him. Grog shakes his head in apology, dark eyes sad with sympathy even as the whites are still tinged with red.

“Cassandra,” Percy says.

Still struggling she snarls “Shut the fuck up, Percival. You would have _broken_ Mother’s _heart_ if she saw you now.”

“I know,” he replies, as if his own heart is breaking and this time, this sodding time, she knows he means it.

It’s like all the pain and anger from the last five years has been torn from her and she slumps as wave after wave of harrowing sorrow assault her. She howls and it echoes thunderously against the walls of the Ziggurat.

Grog strokes her hair through it, and Pike’s golden frame shines through her closed eyelids as small hands cling to her waist.

* * *

Minutes, or hours, later she hears Percy try to say something but Vax and Vex shush him.

“It’s important,” he snaps. When she opens her eyes again he’s glaring up at Vax and refuses to glance in her direction, his face caked with dried salt. Her sobs die to a hiccup. “There’s a reason I got the drop on Delilah. She went on ahead of us to do the ritual!”

“What?” Keyleth breathes.

“She should have stayed there and completed what she could, but after Silas died she felt that connection between them rip apart and abandoned it too early,” he says. He still has one knee on the ground. His gaze shifts to Vex and Keyleth, and his earlier pain has transformed to cool detachment again.

Cassandra didn’t think it was possible to hate anyone more than the Briarwoods.

“So that’s what you meant when you said things got _muddled_ ,” she snarls, and he bares his teeth at her, mocking.

“What do you mean about a connection?” Keyleth says.

“Silas wasn’t always a Vampire. Delilah made a deal with the Whispered One, Vecna, to bring him back. In return she promised him servitude. That there,” he jerks his head to the temple. “Was one of his conditions.”

“You said you didn’t know anything,” Vax says, and Cassandra thinks that it feels like they’re running circles of mistrust and suspicion all over again. Her eyes hurt from how tired she is.

“I don’t. That’s the furthest extent of my knowledge.”

Vax scoffs. “We’re not trusting this prick again, are we?”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Percy replies, which stuns everyone enough that Cassandra is able to slip out of Grog’s grasp.

“Well, trust or not,” Scanlan says, “We still have to deal with whatever the Briarwoods were trying to accomplish. Come on.” He motions for Keyleth and Pike to follow him and they comply after a moment.

Vex says, “We’re still watching you carefully, Percival,” and he replies with, “Good, try not to take your eyes off of me,”. Then something distressingly like hatred sparks between them that remains even as Vax drags him bodily up and into the Ziggurat’s chamber.

It was stupidly easy to find out what the Briarwoods were up to.

Which is why their unguarded shock in response towards that black mass made them sloppy.

Percy saw his chance and broke away from Vax’s grasp before making a running leap towards whatever the fuck that thing was.

As Cassandra cries out, Vex says grimly, “Your idiot brother has just snapped the final straw,”

“You cast hunter’s mark on him?” Cassandra shouts.

“Of course I bloody did.” Vex grits her teeth. “Stand back Cassandra!”

“No!”

That shout causes Percy to turn back, spine twisting until he faces them, mere metres away from the black hole.

Whether it was fear for her, or out of sheer surprise, she didn’t know, but it meant he was in the perfect position for Vex’s arrows to hit him square in the chest. Vax’s knife also protrudes from his hand.

Percy blue eyes widens.

His groans are drowned out by Cassandra’s shocked yell. He grunts twice more before teetering backwards to crash to the floor. What once was a careful human-marble exterior crumples in a shower of pink and red. Through her shock, Cassandra swears her vision blurs to reveal the snow at their feet, and the blizzard that stained her brother’s cheeks red all those years before.

“Crap,” Scanlan hisses.

* * *

The discovery that the Ziggurat disallowed any magical interference galvanised them to make a speedy retreat back through the tunnel.

Once safe in an alcove Pike sets herself to work.

Cassandra takes everyone’s distraction as opportunity to round on Vex.

“What the hell?”

“Cassandra-” Vex says, hands open in defense, but there’s a cold certainty on her mouth that makes Cassandra’s arguments deflate a little. She doesn’t get the chance to even try because Vax interrupts whatever she might have said next.

“He wanted to die, Cassandra. Didn’t you see the look on his face?”

“No,” she snaps, because she refuses to acknowledge the truth and if that makes her childish, so be it.

Vax and Vex exchange a look, clearly not buying it.

She instead turns to see Pike heal Percy as much as she can. It’s enough to bring Percy back to consciousness, and he blinks around at them. He is slumped on the floor, trussed like a chicken in Keyleth’s grasping vines. Pike was courteous enough to leave the weapons in him and they protrude grotesquely from his body as if he is a white haired pin cushion

His clothes are a mess now, dusty and dirty and bloody, like they all are. Whatever bullshit the Briarwoods stuffed him with has wasted away to expose his fragility, his vulnerable dependency to trust in the higher power of an adult in charge. His ascot is gone, and the hollow of his throat is a naked display of his scars framed by the white shirt. It looks like Ripley did get her hands on him after all.

She bends down to face him. “You are still alive. And you will stay that way as long as I say so, do you understand me, Percy?”

He glares up at her. “God, you’re obnoxious.”

“And you are a very stupid, petty man,” She snarls back. Nowhere in her wildest dreams did she imagine her reunion with her brother to be like this.

“You cannot let me live. I have done the worst, Cassandra. Things you cannot even imagine doing,” he struggles against the vines. “I am not worth sparing.”

“That is not for you to decide, Percy!” she kicks his foot and his winces echo harshly. “You always ran away from everything and to your workshop when we were children, now is the time to step up and take responsibility! It’s that easy brother!”

“This isn’t about ease, this is justice! Just as we were taught. What makes me so different from the Briarwoods? What shred of humanity can resolve me from the crimes _I_ have committed? There was always cruelty in me, Cassandra, and now you’ve witnessed it you will do the smart thing for _once_ in your life and _finish me_!”

She recoils as if struck, then stands in what she hopes is a decisive and fluid movement. She draws out her gun even as she feels her knees wobble.

For perhaps the hundredth time today she points it at her brother’s forehead.

“For god’s sake,” Keyleth says the same time Pike says quietly, “Cassandra don’t.”

Vex then speaks up. Her voice is loud and the tone scornful in order for Cassandra and Percy to understand every word. “Yes, Cassandra. Snobbish, cowardly scum like him don’t deserve such easy punishment. You do this, and you’ll never get the chance to make your dear brother suffer for his arrogance.”

Cassandra’s grip tightens and she yet again blinks away the blurry tunnel, the bloody blue smear propped up against the wall. The tunnel is getting hotter, or maybe it’s just her.

“ _You_ ,” Percy turns to Vex, gaze unerring as he glares into her eyes. “Just because you got a lucky shot on me, you think you can talk to me that way? What the bloody hell makes you think you are worth anything?” Percy sneers.

Vax simply steps forward and leans down to press his knife further into Percy’s hand. Percy grunts and writhes in pain again, his forehead shiny with sweat. Blood trickles from his chest and bicep where the arrows are still firmly lodged to the floor. Keyleth’s grasping vines twitch every time he snarls. Vex bares her teeth in a satisfied grimace.

“Shoot me,” he growls at Vex, ignoring Vax’s murderous face mere inches from his. Vex’s shoulder muscle flinch and Cassandra’s grip on her gun wavers. “Just do it. I know you’re smart enough. You are probably the smartest one here, and know exactly what sort of monster you’re dealing with.  

“I nearly killed your brother, I can do it again. I will. Slowly, while you’re watching, until he’s so aware that he’s dying the light flickers in his eyes like a pathetic candle and he cries out for help. That’s the most enjoyable part, you know. I know how to make it hurt so badly he’ll be _screaming_ for your mother to come save him.”

At that Vex yells in fury, and as everyone jumps in surprise she releases her arrow.

There’s a bang and part of the roof caves in. Vex’s arrow lies shattered on the group and there’s smoke trickling out and up from the gun’s tip. The metal grows hotter in Cassandra’s hand, seems to beat along to an unknown song.

Everyone stares at her, open mouthed or wide eyed. Vex is clearly livid, is shaking with it, eyes reddening as she ignores Cassandra to stare down Percy as if she would very much enjoy tearing him limb from limb and rip out his heart in savage paltry.

The point of the gun is turned and aimed at Vex’s temple.

“What the fuck, Cassandra?” Vex says slowly, above the sudden hiss in Cassandra’s ear that states: _Burn her. Destroy them. Make it right, Cassandra._

“You changed the deal,” she says. Her voice shakes as a quiet thrum. She wishes she didn’t sound so young.

 _The debt must be paid._ _  
_

“I didn’t ask to kill my own brother. I will not give this idiot the satisfaction. Take the name off,” she commands.

 _No_.

At this point she registers the confusion on everyone’s face, Grog asking “Who is she talking to?”, and Percy’s white face turning ashen. He closes his eyes and his mouth forms the word ‘No.’

Vex is the only one frowning, even with a gun pointed to her forehead.

_You asked for this, you have sacrificed a great deal to get where you are now, do not let it be in vain, girl. Finish them, pull the trigger. NOW._

“Do not tell me what to do,” she snaps back. “This isn’t the revenge you whispered in my ear. Nothing feels better, nothing is avenged; and now you want me to kill my family? I am done with this. And I am done with you.” Then she pulls the gun away from Vex and tosses it along the corridor, far from her, where she or Percival can’t touch it.

Immediately there’s a barrage of psychic pain invading her mind and she cries out.

“Cassandra!” yell various voices, but the voice now named Orthax roars in a plume of miasmatic rage, exultant in freedom, terrifying in mass as he attacks her mind. She feels her hand involuntarily move to Righteous and it takes all her might to snatch it back so she can entangle her shaking fingers in her streaky hair.

“Please,” she gasps out. “Move away from me. Just go because I don’t think I can hold on.”

“Cassandra Johanna Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo, if you think we’re going to let you deal with this on your own you’ve got another thing coming!” Scanlan snarls and there’s a crackle of lavender and ozone as his arcane gifts flare with irritation.

Then Percy is grabbing her wrists and pulling them away, repositioning them so they’re gripping his throat, which is slippery with his blood. White spots bloom on his neck and under her thumbs. His adam’s apple bobs; the only indication of his fear that he’ll allow.

Stunned, she stares up at him.

He has cast minor illusion so he looks like Delilah; whole and not bloody, cruel and sickeningly sweet.

“Finish this,” Percy-as-Delilah growls. “Finish this and you are free from that monster.”

Orthax lets out another scream of glee just as Cassandra starts sobbing out a denial.

“He will not stop, I can’t,” she tells them, because if there’s one thing she’s certain of in this world it’s that Orthax has had his hooks in her since day one. Because she was bold, because she was clever, because she was fiercer that the rest of her brothers and sisters and _lived_ when they didn’t. She never wanted to be the snake puppet to this monster and yet it didn’t even need her permission to invade.

“Yes you can,” Percy affirms.

“Let go of her!” Keyleth yells, and Percy is yanked back by a grasping vine ensnaring his wrist.

Immediately Cassandra is being hugged by Pike and Vax while Percy is trapped in Grog’s steely grip.

“Force whatever that thing is out now, Cassandra!” Vax says in her ear, low and intent with rage.

She takes in everyone’s determined and fearful expressions; soaks up the warmth of Vax and Pike’s arms, Keyleth and Vex with their weapons on her brother, Grog’s white knuckled grip, Scanlan’s magic filling up the cave with his anger.

She gasps three more times. “I love you,” she tells everyone.

Cassandra draws in to hold her breath and, with a last mental teeter of doubt, plunges into that icy river of five years ago just so the clocks can finally turn back for her.

And there’s Orthax; looming large.

* * *

Fin.


End file.
